


Returning to work...

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Established Relationship, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:55:36
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean and Sam descend on a Convention and face down a slash writer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Don't worry folks this isn't a Kill Bill type hacking job. It is something I need to do to get back in the groove.

**Returning to Work**

 

The Convention was in full swing when the young writer arrived. He was going there as a guest, just a regular con person not as anyone celebrity. He was recognized by a few who had the good grace to greet and meet and press flesh before travelling on. What he didn't hear was the tires squealing in the parking lot as another 1967 Chevy Impala joined the lot of the dedicated who were there.

 

Sam looked at Den with some trepidation. "You realize this is going to be like going hunting for a human, no monster, no creepy, just a human?" Sam tried again.

 

Dean sighed and looked at his brother tiredly. "There are dozens, no, hundreds of people here who are fans of Chuck's books. I snatched up a copy of Variety one day last week and saw where a network was being approached about the development of a television series." He ground his teeth a moment and turned halfway in his seat to face Sam. "If we don't put a stop to this now, we're never going to be safe. Granted the cover art that Chuck picks for his books is a bit...lurid...I think you would say. Let's just get this over with."

 

Sam saw the tiredness combating with the anger in his brothers eyes. He looked around carefully noting that their corner of the parking lot was crowded with cars but everyone seemed to be focused on getting into the Convention hall. 

 

Sam quickly reached over and putting his hand behind Dean's neck pulled him in for a kiss. He held it a moment and felt his brother relax some. Hell, he was melting in the seat. Sam finally pulled away and looked him carefully.

 

"Look, we are probably going to be picked up on as cosplayers with the way we are dressed and definitely with faces like ours which are pretty much photogenically perfect recreations on his covers. Let's just suck it up and get this over with. We know who is at fault for some of this stuff, and who's been lurking. We can do this."

 

Dean finally nodded, turned and opened his door, grabbing his keys at the same moment. "Let's do this." He grunted.

 

Their entry into the convention was noticed by several persons. The convention was a melange of Science Fiction, and Supernatural stuff. They got in line to get their passes and paid their cover fee. The young man who was sitting at the counter looked shocked for a moment then recovered.

 

"Just damn it!" He grunted.

"Yeah we get that a lot." Dean snorted as he took his badge and wrote "Dean" on the card, then clipped it to his shirt. Sam took his and did the same thing, they bypassed the shocked onlookers and headed into the crowd. 

 

The room was thick with people and they worked their way around to the Dealer's Room to face down some of the writers. Their usual spiel was to walk right up to the table. Flash their official identification which they usually kept hidden, then informed the writer to back off a bit. 

 

They hit six writers with that attention getting before Sam looked up and saw a somewhat familiar face. He paused a moment and so long that Dean nudged him a bit to get him moving. Instead he took Dean's shoulder and turned him toward the crowd. He pointed over to a middle aged man, bearded and cut short, wearing flannel and jeans. He looked like any other cosplayer. 

 

"So what amd I looking at?" Dean asked.

"I know him, the guy in the plaid flannel shirt over there." Sam started.

"Uh, you gotta be more specific, this room is full of plaid flannel and bomber jackets." Dean responded.

 

Instead of answering his pushed his way through the crowd with Dean in tow. They came up on the guys six o'clock position and looked him over. Sam reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder. He turned and looked surprised for a moment and then recognition flickered across his face.

“I thought you guys were going to leave me alone.” He muttered.

“Ron, Ron Chatham, right?” Sam started.

“The one and only, just like you two, albeit the throng of lookalikes.” Ron replied.

 

“I thought you were going to write about our adventures?” Sam said, then Dean caught on and recognition flicked in his eyes as well. 

“Yeah, you were pretty good at slashing us.” Dean grunted sourly.

“So you read my work. I’m flattered of course. But…Hell.” He looked around. “This isn’t the place to talk about this. Come on.” Ron said. 

 

He led them through the crowd until at last, they were at the entrance to a lounge. They all entered and grabbed a corner table well in the tucked away section with some privacy. The waiter finally go to their table and took the drink order , leaving with a blush and smile and he was cruised by three sets of eyes.

 

“We really need to stop being so obvious about that.” Dean groused a bit.

“So, ask him out. I bet he would bite at the chance.” Ron said smiling a bit, a tired smile.

Dean shook himself and looked at Chatham. “You’re not going to get off the hook that easy.”

 

“What do you mean?” He started. “I wrote you two like I saw you in my mind’s eye and wrote your relationship like I thought I would hope to see it progress. What did I do wrong? Hell, it’s been over five years since you two assaulted my table at DragonCon in Atlanta.”

 

Sam flushed a touch and Dean smiled a little lopsidedly at the memory. “Yeah we did mess with you a bit.” Sam said.

 

“Messed with me! You two scared me out of writing.” Ron sighed and leaned back in the booth as the drink order arrived and was served. After the waiter left with another little grin, Dean took a sip of his whiskey and looked at Ron.

 

“Gotta admit, you did pretty much keep us, well our relationship progressing in the way it was going pretty much. But hell, there’s a bunch of writers here who’ve done the same. But you had a knack.” Dean said. Sam leaned forward after taking a pull on the beer he ordered.

 

“Ron, you actually were pretty good. At least the stories didn’t have a kitzy quality we saw on one or two writers. But you actually were turning out some decent stuff.” Sam said.

 

“Well, you two assaulting me like you did, put the knackers on that.” Ron took a pull on his whiskey and looked around nervously. Finally he focused back on the brothers and leaned back nervous still. “I haven’t written a single word in five years, not one goddamned word. My wife thinks my writer’s block kicked in again, now she is asking me if the well is dry.” Now Ron grew angry and slapped his hand on the table hard enough for them to hear but not enough to draw attention. “I’ve had my fingers away when I’ve been itching to write. Then I started getting depressed and shit, had to see a shrink before all was said and done. She’s got me on a pretty good cocktail that keeps me functional emotionally.” He admitted.

 

“Wait a minute!?” Sam interjected. “You’re sitting there saying that stopping your writing did this to you?” 

 

“Yeah, but why should you care!?” He shot back tossing back another gulp of the whiskey. “It’s not like you were hitting every con.”

 

“We hit quite a few. It was about a year in that I really noticed your absence.” Sam said pointed, Dean let him take the lead now. “You quit writing and basically had a breakdown?” 

 

“I wouldn’t call it a breakdown, I just got hammered with events in real life, it was like karma was paying me back in full right then for every wrong I’ve done.” He sighed, “Thankfully Jim stayed beside me and put up with me through this and helped me find help that I needed.”

 

“Hey man, sorry about that. We didn’t mean to do all that to you.” Dean said apologetically.

Ron shrugged and looked at his whiskey and then back at the brothers. “So what do you want out of me?” 

 

Sam and Dean traded looks, then leaned in conspiratorially. Ron leaned in as well to catch their words. 

 

“Start writing again.” Dean said decisively.

Ron started and looked shocked and angry as he drew back a little from Dean. “START!!! You’re asking me to do that after what you did!!??” He nearly shouted, and this time he did draw a little attention. 

“Hey man, we’re sorry as hell about that and there’s nothing we can do to change it, but starting writing again about us, for us.” Dean said his tone near pleading.

 

Ron looked at him a moment and then at Sam. “You’ve been studiously silent through this, how about some input from you.”

 

Sam leaned back and drained about a third of his glass and then leaned back into the huddle. “Write. You were good at it. Best of all your stories led people away into thinking that maybe there was an untouched dimension that you could tap into and pull some good ones out of. You’re a good writer, not great, “ Sam said with a bit of a grin, “But you at least kept us honest to our feelings for the most part.”

 

“There’s hundreds of writers out there that are cranking out better stuff than what I was doing? Why, I’m so special because I write you warts and all?” Ron sputtered now frustrated and angry. 

“Yes, warts and all.” Sam said. “You diverted some of the attention. There are others out there who are hitting close to the mark and we’re warning some of them off.”

 

“So now you’re picking on other writers. GODDAMNIT!! Can’t you stop screwing around with our lives?” Ron said angrily.

 

Sam’s eyes became flint and heat as he responded. “As soon as some writers quit screwing around with ours. We go on hunts and sometimes find amateurs on site imitating us. What they are doing freaking dangerous. As well as somewhat illegal.”

 

Ron snorted. “Who are you to talk about legalities?”

 

“Okay, so we bend the rules a bit. But we hammered on those who needed it.” Dean started. “But we need your work back on board.”

 

“What you need is a shot of reality. We’re out here, we’re mortal for the most part, and we have feelings just like you two. Yeah we write about private moments, but for most all of us that is just our fictional adventuring. Will I start writing again?” Ron grimaced and held his glass in a bit of a death grip. “Maybe, but if I do and when I do, it will be on my terms. You two stay out of my hair as far as this warning bullshit.” Ron stated firmly.

 

Dean and Sam traded looks again and then looked at Ron. “I think we can agree to that. Just write the way you used to write. That’s all we’re asking.” 

 

Ron leaned back and then stuck out his hand. “Shake on, but don’t shake unless you mean it.” 

Sam took his and warmly. Dean looked a moment and took it as well. “You realize I have 5 years of work to make up for. There are going to be a lot of people wonder just who the hell is this yahoo that suddenly popped up.”

 

“No,” Dean snorted, “I’ve watched others around the bar watching us and watching you. There are some who remember.”

 

Just then a father and daughter team came up to the table. He looked over Dean and Sam and then looked at Ron. “Chatham, right?” 

 

“I’m popular today.” He said, then smiled a bit.

“Yeah, this is Wendy, she’s really into your writing.” The father said.

“Yeah, why’d you quit?” She asked.

“Are you sure you’re old enough to be reading my stuff?” He said surveying the teenager.

“I’m eighteen.” She shot back.

“Funny, you look fourteen to me. “ Ron said with a charming smile. “Hon, I just hit a dry spell. But I have the feeling that I’m going to be doing some real writing again shortly.

She perked up and looked around the table. “Dudes, you really got it on! You could be twins for the Winchester brothers.” She said with a smile.

 

“Thanks, we try to avoid that.” Dean said with an answering smile. Then she turned her attention back to Ron. 

“I’ll be looking on the web for your next story.” She said and the tugging her father’s hand they walked away. 

 

“I should never have put up that bio with the picture.” Ron grunted in annoyance.

“Too late now.” Sam said slapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Then he looked at the brothers. “What are you doing for lunch?” He asked.

 

“Probably hit a diner nearby, or some fastfood.” Sam said looking at Dean who nodded.

Ron pushed away from the table a bit and stood. “There’s a truckstop just outside of town near I-70, I got breakfast there this morning and it was really good. Want to go, my treat?” He asked.

 

“Sure.” Dean said starting to slide out of the booth

“Besides they got great Apple pie.” Ron said with a smile.

 

~fini~


End file.
